Well, what do I write about? These cats won’t stay out of my face. They climb on my chair and perch on my shoulder like they’re some kind of bird or something. Gah… Jinx is in my face right now.. Hang on…
Lord, rearranging cats in one’s lap is difficult when they have claws that never get clipped! Ouch!!
So… Yesterday I didn’t write. I really didn’t feel like it. Nothing spectacular happened. It was just a boring day. I spent some time with Brandan before he left to go by Little Orphan Annie’s house. We were laughing and joking and watching YouTube videos. I’m trying to spend as much time as I can with him. I’m now realizing how old he is going to be. 18. 18. When I was 18 I was coming home drunk and getting kicked out. When I was 18 I was smoking pot for the first time. When I was 18 I had a job and was on my own and paying rent for a room in a co-worker’s house. When I was 18 somehow I think I was more mature than Brandan is. Is it still true that girls mature faster than boys do? If so then yes. I was more mature at 18 and had more street smarts than my son had. Maybe I wish things were as simple for him as they were for me back then. I don’t mean all of the getting in trouble and being on my own crap because lord knows that wasn’t exactly easy. Getting paid $4.50 an hour and having $50 of that go to rent and the rest go to weed and whatever isn’t making it. I mean simple as in easy to get a job. Simple as in things seemed to be slowed down a lot back then. Things are so busy these days. Everyone is in a hurry to do something or get somewhere. It wasn’t so when I was 18. At least it didn’t feel that way. The day’s felt longer and the time was well spent. These days (even though some days seem to drag) time moves so quickly. We are in 2015 already and the first quarter is almost over. The years didn’t move so fast back then.
Maybe I’m just wanting to go back since I know my baby will be 18 next month. I don’t want that to happen. I know I write a lot about this but it’s on my mind a lot. It’s like 18 is this magic number and right when he turns it that the whole world is going to magically change when in reality nothing much will be any different except now he will use the whole, “I’m 18 and you can’t tell me what to do” bullshit which by the way won’t work on me and surely won’t work on my husband.
But still, I don’t want it to happen. I’m sad that he will be 18. It means he’s not my little boy anymore. He’s taller than me already. I want him to stay as he is and just pause time for a few more years until I am prepared for the adult Brandan. Maybe I will never be prepared for him. Maybe that’s what I’m scared of. Maybe I’m scared of my husband telling him to get a job or get out. He’s mentioned this to me before and I’ve tried my best to ignore him and secretly hope that 18 doesn’t come. But it IS coming and I can’t stop it. Sadly.
I don’t know why he can’t get a job. He has put applications in everywhere. Nobody has called him back. I think he needs to redo them all over again and start all over. Hubs can’t kick him out because there’s only two places he can go. He can either go by my stepsons’ apartment or Little Orphan Annie’s apartment and I don’t like the idea of either one. His home is here with his family. Even if he thinks some other place will be better, after a short while he would want to come home to his own room and own space. There is truly no place like home when you’re a kid. You just don’t know it or don’t realize it.
I have 37 days left to have my little boy and then he will be an adult. Please make time stop.